


Arias and Overtures

by SQ (proteinscollide)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-05
Updated: 2005-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proteinscollide/pseuds/SQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's true that all Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals are somewhat tainted with evil. Crowley takes Aziraphale for a little night music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arias and Overtures

Aziraphale kept an eye on Crowley all the way home. The demon kept turning his head from side to side, as if to cast an odd hemi-shadow on his face from each streetlight they passed.

“Wasn’t that great fun?” Crowley said suddenly, sounding much too cheery for being completely sober and having watched an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical from beginning to end.

“No. It was so…silly,” Aziraphale hurried to say, with a tone of voice that implied ‘silly’ overtook every mortal sin in how much it injured his soul.

“Really? I really enjoyed it, actually. The tunes are very catchy.” Crowley started to sing the instantly recognisable main theme, his sibilant tongue attempting crashing organ chords. Aziraphale winced, put a hand on Crowley’s arm, and firmly said, “No! For the love of, well, God, stop.”

“Too populist for your taste, I suppose. One man’s masterpiece - ”

“Crowley, Bach’s cantatas are masterpieces. Wagner’s Ring Cycle is a masterpiece, secular as it is. This? Two monkeys starved to madness before given a pianola.”

“Oh well.” Crowley stopped suddenly, hands stuck deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, head down. Aziraphale turned, a step ahead, and opened his mouth to apologise. He hadn’t meant to be insulting, he didn’t think Crowley would care so much about such light entertainment. Though he had thought it odd at first, when the demon turned up that afternoon and whisked him away for dinner and then the musical.

Azirphale then noticed the glass shopfront beside him and realised he was home. He was shuffling towards the short flight of stairs to the door, when Crowley said, “What, aren’t you going to thank me for a great date anyway, just to be polite?”

“Date?”

“In the movies they always make this bit look simple,” Crowley muttered. “Yeah, date. You know, you thank me for being great, I say, yes I know, and then I lean in for my goodnight kiss.”

“Goodnight what - ?”

Crowley leaned in and gave Aziraphale a kiss, just like that.

“Oh.”

Aziraphale felt his hands in clenched fists between their bodies, the odd human warmth. And before he could even think about it, his mouth met Crowley’s again, and his hands opened to slide, palm-down, over the flat of Crowley’s chest, over the soft wool of his top.

Half an hour later, they broke for breath they didn’t need, and all Aziraphale could manage was a weak, “Marvellous.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said smoothly.

“I never thought there were more advantages to be corporeal than tea with cream, or perfectly scrambled eggs for breakfast, or - ”

“Shut up, angel, we’re just getting started,” Crowley said, but lightly and with a half-smile.

END


End file.
